


Outgoing President Trump Murders ex-President Obama - The Story of the Century!

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work, Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Abnormal Anatomy, Asphyxiation, Breathplay, M/M, Master/Slave, Near Future, Secret Relationship, i have no words, uhh, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 04:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12809706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The White House was cold and dark on that rainy January night- insomuch as a white house can be dark, at least. The whole city seemed in a haze, a funk. Four years had passed since the fateful election of 2016, and a new president had been elected. A better president, the news said. A president that wasn’t an orange douchecicle, the news said. But Barack knew better.





	Outgoing President Trump Murders ex-President Obama - The Story of the Century!

**Author's Note:**

> i am irredeemable in gods eyes

The White House was cold and dark on that rainy January night- insomuch as a white house can be dark, at least. The whole city seemed in a haze, a funk. Four years had passed since the fateful election of 2016, and a new president had been elected. A better president, the news said. A president that wasn’t an orange douchecicle, the news said. But Barack knew better.

Throughout the election, the ex-president had campaigned hard for Donald. It had cost him his supporters, his _family_ , but he had done it.

The thing he couldn’t tell anyone? He had done it for his lover.

Now here they were, in Donald’s last months in the White House. One of the last times they could fuck on the president’s bed.

An orange hand brushed against his own, fingers intertwining. They would always have the perfect mixture of colors. “I want to stain the sheets with cum just to spite them,” he laughs softly, turning to run his fingers through Donald’s thinning hair.

“Don’t be rude,” Donald scolds, but he’s grinning all the same.

“It’s not rude if they can’t hear it.”

“Now...” Donald takes his hand and tugs him fully into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. “Is that how you speak to your master?”

Barack’s breath hitched, eyes widening. “..No. I’m sorry.” Then, as an afterthought, he tacked on a quick, “Sir.”

“Good,” Donald purrs, gliding over to the closet. Barack stood in place, unsure if he would be allowed to move. From the closet, Don retrieved a collar and leash, moving back towards Barack, who dipped his head to allow the thing to be clipped around him. “Down, boy,” he instructed, and Barack fell to his knees.

“May I?” asked Barack huskily, tilting up to nose at Donald’s covered crotch.

“Only if you can open it with your teeth,” smirked Donald, pulling them both over to the bed and spreading his legs.

Barack leaned forward, pawing between Donald’s thighs and straining his neck to catch the zipper in his teeth. It took a few tries but eventually he caught it, just as Donald delivered a quick warning tug on his leash. “Please, sir, master,” he panted in pain, barely braced on the bed, gasping for breath around the zipper as he struggled to recover from the sudden loss of breath.

“Hurry up,” Donald insisted, a coldness to his voice. Barack was eager to comply. He pulled down the zipper and freed Donald’s normal sized cock. He surged forward, ready to take the warm flesh down his throat.

But Donald yanked him back. “And who said you could do that?”

“Sorry- Sorry, sir--”

“Do you want me to whip you?”

“..No, sir.”

“..Fine. But only because you’re so good. Instead, you’re not allowed to cum.”

Barack whined softly, but nodded. “Should I...?”

“Whip it out,” Donald said, smirking.

See, Obama had a very special dick. Obama’s dick was not the normal 3-4 inches. It retracted into his body, a lot like a vagina when it was not in use, but now it was straining hard at his slacks, the first few inches trapped in his pants. He hesitated before lowering his hands to shuck off his pants, dick poking out like a mouse peeping from it’s hole.

“Whip. It. Out,” repeated Donald, and Barack took himself in shaking hands, jerking forward as Trump pulled his chain steadily tighter. It became harder to breath just as his dick became harder, stretching and stretching. The full fuck wand would not be out for several minutes yet, but neither were willing to wait.

As Barack coaxes his flesh flute out, Donald strips on the bed, and produces a bottle of lube for the two of them to share. “Up,” he commanded, and Barack could only follow.

This was a well practiced routine, and Donald was well cleaned as well. He stretched out on the bed, Donald kneeling over him. A loud groan was drawn from both of them as they made contact.

Barack’s dick kept expanding with the increased arousal. It was a very flexible dick, perfectly fit for the human body. It would keep going, lengthening and lengthening until it wrapped it’s way through Donald’s innards. Eventually, it would poke out his mouth. Barack drooled at the thought.

Donald slapped his hip in warning, tightening the leash to cut off his air as a signal for Barack to move. And move he did. Little thrusts and rolls of his hips, flushing as he worked up move Donald’s body. Donald groaned and hissed, rolling his hips in time with Barack. The dick worked it’s way through his digestive track, and the top began to fall out of his dom persona, overcome with pleasure.

Barack whined, tears pricking in his eyes. The knowledge that he would not be allowed to come haunted him, the sounds of skin slapping skin and breathy orange groans tightening the pit of arousal in his belly. “Don... please...”

“Please _nothing_ ,” hissed Donald weakly, slamming his hips down and cutting off the final bit of Barack’s airflow. He choked and gasped, having used the last of his breath to speak those two words. Tears only building before suddenly flooded his eyes and leaked over the edges, creating tracks off the sides of his face. Hands clawed at the collar around his throat as fear began to accompany the arousal, edging just to the wrong side of masochism.

It suddenly occurred to him: he wanted to safeword. His 30ft dick was straining, caught inside Donald’s tight rectum. But he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk.

Donald was too caught up to notice, bringing his ass slamming down on his hips. The bed was creaking and cracking, and Barack’s heartbeat sped up, pumping too fast with his limited oxygen supply. The world blurred with liquid, his lover a blur of orange and yellow, and then it happened, faster than he could comprehend.

Obama’s dick snapped.

It registered as a sudden, excruciating pain in his lower regions Burning, screaming, horrific.

“Barack?! Barack!?” Donald screamed from above him, though garbled by the protrusion in his throat, he seemingly recognizing the horror he had done. His sight was still blurred but he could just barely see the tip of his dick poking out of his mouth, blood soaking his ass and Barack’s groin.

Things went from bad to worse as his vision went from blurred to darkening. Donald grasped at his shoulders but as tunnel vision set in the only thing Barack could focus on was the beading end of his disjoined dick in the back of Donald’s throat as he screamed, sobbing. Sobbing for Barack to hold on. To stay with him.

The sound of his beloved crying out to him gave Barack the rush he never knew he needed, even in his last moments. In the end, it would be the orgasm that killed him, pleasure wracking through his body and stopping his heart, dying the most painless death a man could ever.

\--

_Outgoing President Trump Murders ex-President Obama - The Story of the Century!_

 


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